


Everybody's Healing From Something

by aheadfullofbooks



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 11:57:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6283546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aheadfullofbooks/pseuds/aheadfullofbooks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He carefully swept the knotted leather bands further up. The pink scar trailed like lightning across the pale wrist. Adam traced the ragged line with his finger, remembering all too well the sight of bloody bandages surrounding it. </p><p>- - - </p><p>Adam and Ronan explore each other’s scars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everybody's Healing From Something

Adam was laying on his back, relaxed but unable to sleep despite the lull of Ronan’s breathing beside him. Outside, the setting sun fell against the tall glass windows of Monmouth. The hues of blue and orange fell across Ronan’s room, giving it an otherworldly appearance.

The space itself held a mystic quality. Adam often felt like he was intruding, even after Ronan made it clear that he was welcome. Not in so many words, of course. But in that way of his in which an open door and a tugging hand meant more than anything he could say. Still, there was something about the way everyday things – piles of dirty laundry, dumb bells and dusty books – sat side by side with dream things – impossibly comfy sweaters, bottom-less beer bottles and unearthly flowers - that made Ronan’s room feel like existed on a separate reality. Much like Ronan himself, he thought. 

At the moment, face softened with sleep and mouth slightly open, the other boy looked ethereal. There was a faint crease just between his brows that Adam wanted to reach out and smooth. When those lines tightened it often meant Ronan was having a nightmare. When that happened, Adam would stoke his cheek and whisper sweet nothings all the while staying clear of his hands least he brought something back. 

(It happened once. Ronan woke up holding a shard of glass. The cut on Adam’s chest was shallow and barely an inch long but it took him a month to convince Ronan to spend the night again.)

At the moment, Ronan’s mind must have been quiet though. His eyes were still behind closed lids, his breathing even and his hands relaxed. Ever in sync with her dreamer Chainsaw slept too, surrounded by shinny coins and bottle caps, inside the cage by the foot of the bed.

Ronan’s arm lay across Adam’s torso, and Adam relished in its weight and warmth, and even in the possessiveness it betrayed. The dimming light was just so that Adam could make out the goose bumps and the dark golden hairs that grew there. He admired the play of light and shadow that swayed across Ronan’s skin and reached out to caress his wrist, gently as not to wake him.

It had been a while since Adam had the chance to enjoy a proper lazy Sunday. It was an indulgence, for sure. When Ronan showed up at St Agnes that morning, the nagging pull of responsibility – _should have picked up another shift at the garage, should have been studying for the World History test_ – made Adam hesitate. But Ronan had said please and I miss you and Adam caved in fast. Ronan’s mother tongue was one of commands and harsh sentences, but with Adam he asked and pleaded and for that Adam had no defenses. Laying in his bed, enveloped in warmth and soft sheets, it was hard to remember why he had hesitated at all. 

Lost in thought and in the patterns he was drawing with his finger, Adam almost didn’t register the subtle rise of skin on the inside of Ronan’s arm. Pausing, he carefully swept the knotted leather bands further up. The pink scar trailed like lightning across the pale wrist. Adam traced the ragged line with his finger, remembering all too well the sight of bloody bandages surrounding it. 

“I wanted to tell you, you know”, Ronan whispered softly. Adam turned, surprised to find him awake. “Explain it wasn’t me. I just couldn’t.” 

His eyes were still heavy with sleep, and despite the subject matter his body was completely relaxed. “I know.” Adam seized the invitation. “Will you tell me about it?” 

He resumed softly stroking his arm. When his fingers swept along the scar again there was a shift in Ronan's body, a half-repressed reaction. Ronan sighed and closed his eyes. “There’s not much to tell really.” He paused, scooted closer and buried his head on the pillow next to Adam’s shoulder. When he spoke again, Adam felt his breath on his skin and shivered. “I was having a nightmare. About… the usual. I could hear them circling overhead. Could hear their wings flapping and those goddamned screeches.” He chuckled humorlessly. “They always wait for the scene to play out.” He paused considering his next words. “I don’t think they weren’t trying to kill me.” 

Adam held his breath, afraid to speak. Even after all their time together, it was rare for Ronan to be candid with something so personal and Adam half expected his walls to go up at the barest indication that he was, in fact, listening. Still, he dared: 

“What do you mean?” 

“They were clawing at me, trying to reach inside. Like… I could feel their hate, but it was directed at something inside me, something other than me. Fuck, I’m not explaining it right.” 

Adam thought back to the night he saw a night terror for the first time. It had been just a dead thing, hanging out the back of the BMW. It looked so alien with its greasy tar like flesh and its endless tangle of wings and sharp angles. To later see that impossible creature alive… The chilling terror was fresh in his mind. Adam didn't like to think about what it meant that they had come from Ronan's head. All things have a beginning and grow into form as more energy is added to it. Were Ronan's dark thoughts feeding these monsters? Did they bloom into physical experience because it became too unbearable to hold them inside? 

He turned on his side but Ronan refused to meet his eyes, head still half hidden by the pillow. “Next thing I know a claw hooked around my arm, tearing out flesh. I tried to fight it off, but that only made it angrier. I couldn’t get away so my panicked brain figured the only way out was to wake up. And… well, you know the rest of the story.” 

He did. A panicked phone call from Gansey telling him they couldn’t find Ronan. Trying not to make a sound as he got dressed in a hurry and tiptoed down the hallway. The thud of his head hitting the wall when he was caught. Reading a single text message under the covers through watery eyes – “We’re in the hospital. He tried to kill himself”. 

At the time their friendship was still fraught, based on little more than their mutual love for Gansey, but that day he felt like something shifted. They spent all their fighting and never had much to say to each other when Gansey wasn’t present, but he had been sure of Ronan in the way one’s sure that the sun will rise the next day. Sitting next to him in Latin, making dirty jokes at lunch, complaining all the way through a Glendower expedition. The thought that Ronan Lynch, a boy made of concrete walls and barbwire, could bleed was disconcerting. 

Adam spent the night, chest tight with unease and helplessness, willing time to go faster. He was already utterly inadequate in every other aspect, and now he couldn’t even manage to show up. _What kind of fucking friend was he, if he couldn’t even be there when it mattered?_

In the morning, despite the flashes of pain in his head and the buzzing in his ears, he biked all the way to the hospital. 

He met Gansey in lobby. They took in each other’s faces – one bruised and guarded, the other damp and exhausted – but neither made any comment. After Declan and Matthew left, they were allowed a few minutes inside his room. In the weeks that followed, the sight of Ronan engulfed by the whiteness of the room, looking ashen and lifeless, came back to him every night. 

Adam had plenty of memories to fuel his nightmares, but some were worse than others. Dreams of his father's fists left him frightened and unnerved but there was a certain familiarity to them. Worse were the nights when he woke up shaking having dreamt of Blue crushed under cave walls or Noah left dying alone in the cold. Worse still were the nights when he woke up frozen in fear, heart pounding and drowning in sweat at the image of Ronan’s mangled body among the church pews or the sight of Gansey dead and the words _"Are you happy now, Adam?"_

“Adam?” 

The echo of his name snapped him out of his thoughts. He found Ronan looking up at him, expectant. He shifted a fraction closer to Ronan hoping to get away from his wandering mind. He smelled like sweat and sex and soap. Adam pressed his nose into Ronan’s neck, chasing the smell. 

Ronan inhaled deep, struggling to put his thoughts into words. “What I meant was… Like, it’s not just because I had to put up with being on fucking suicide watch for months”. He paused, and a heavy frown twisted his mouth. “Seeing how much you guys worried…" 

His voice grew hoarse as it died out, and Adam reached out to gently wrap his fingers around his wrist and plant a kiss on the prominent mark. His lips lingered there, searching for something to say. Adam wanted to leave a mark of his own. He wanted to cut him deep and pour into him all his love and have it take root. But kisses don’t last like wounds do. Adam could only hope to kiss him again and again and again and never let him forget the feel of it. 

Ronan seemed to have been holding his breath. He exhaled slowly then, thin mouth curling in a faint smile as his glance met Adam's. 

Adam wasn’t sure if it was the proximity of Ronan’s body, the intimacy of their conversation or the memories of how close they had been to losing Ronan, but he was getting hard. Feeling this, Ronan’s bittersweet smile slowly morphed into a full blown grin. “I don’t know why the fuck we’re talking about this when there are a million other more enjoyable things we could be doing.” And there it was. Adam decided not to push him any further though. He was all too happy to drop the subject as he felt Ronan’s hand brushing across his chest. 

Ronan rolled sideways and settled himself above Adam, arms pressed into the mattress on either side of his chest. Ronan slowly settled his weight on top of him, knowing how much he loved it. He threw his weight into his hips, roughly rocking into him. Once, twice and then again. He stopped and leaned down to kiss him, soft and tender like he’d changed his mind and decided to take things slow instead. 

“You have some scars of your own.” He’d whispered the words against his lips, with the barest hitch of breath betraying hesitation. Adam, ablaze with shame, pushed at his chest and looked at him through narrow eyes. Was this a wall coming up or a door opening? 

“No secrets behind those though.” 

Ronan looked him straight in the eye and whispered, “Show me”. 

Feeling defenseless and exposed, Adam's gaze dropped to his hands - freckled, rough, hatched with scrapes both old and new, still sprawled against Ronan’s chest. 

His rational mind could see that there was no judgment in Ronan's eyes. His knew that Ronan Lynch liked him. And not even in spite of his trailer trash roots, but also because of them. But shame was ingrained deep in him. The weight of unworthiness sat perpetually in pit of his stomach and in moments like these, it swelled. 

_How could he give himself fully to another person if he spent every waking moment working to transform himself into someone else?_

But Ronan had seen all of him. Early on he’d seen his insecurities and he’d brushed them off. He’d seen his second-hand everything and his poor excuse for a home and took it all in stride. He’d seen him cowed and humiliated but never treated him like a broken thing. He believed Adam was more than his circumstances and that was everything. And truth was, Adam had fallen in love with Ronan during moments of vulnerability. 

He felt the tension leave his body. He forced his gaze upwards and found Ronan's eyes piercing his own. Relying on another person didn’t come easy to him. But it was time for a change. Self-sufficiency had kept him from falling apart so far but he wanted more. 

_Unknowable_ no more. 

Ronan looked down at him, expectant but patient. He was so close it would be easy to draw a hand around the back of his skull and pull him closer. 

Adam took a steadying breath, looked down at himself and slowly brought his own hand to his collarbone. "Here," and then, after a slight hesitation, "The shard of a beer bottle".

Ronan dipped his head, deliberately keeping their eyes looked together, and kissed the faint scar, hoping to quench the memory that came with it. He lingered, brushing his lips along the half-moon of his neck. Adam took a breath, feeling with razor sharp awareness Ronan's mouth, this time against his shoulder. His lips were smooth and wet and every nerve they touched came alive. 

Sometimes, in moments like these, Adam found himself overwhelmed by the sheer brute force of the realization that this was real. It was a physical feeling. He felt his body could not hold all that was him. He felt it in every muscle and every nerve, pulsing and awake, anticipating more. 

Together they traced each scar, Adam’s fingers closely followed by Ronan’s lips. When it was over, Adam didn't feel better about the scars that marred his body but there was something new and clear amid the shame. He recognized it as relief. With each confession, each kiss, Adam found himself getting calmer, a peace settling over him. Thoughts and memories were dimmed and there was only feeling. 

In the end, Ronan settled himself on top of him, letting his cheek rest against Adam’s chest. Adam wound his arms around his back, seeking more closeness and breathing in the citrus smell of his aftershave. They were quiet for a long moment, just breathing each other in and still trying to swallow around the newfound intimacy. Adam, a little heady with happiness, felt like he could look at Ronan all night. The way his eyes wrinkled at the corners when he smiled. The place where buzzed hair gave way to smooth skin. 

When Ronan broke the silence, the room was already covered with night’s darkness. “Everybody is healing from something. There’s bravery in that, I think.” 

Resenting the statement - bravery was not a quality he associated with himself, least of all when it concerned his parents - Adam looked away and out the window, at the empty lot outside. 

“Like battle scars.” Ronan added in a whisper. 

Adam had never thought of them like that. 

Was it really a battle if he never fought back? Ever since he could remember, he pushed his father's anger towards the periphery of his days and learned to live with it inevitably creeping back into focus the moment he walked through his front door. 

He wasn't brave, not in the full sense of the word, but he liked to think he was at least taking steps in the right direction. 

He might not have fought against his father but he _fought_ for himself. Every day was a battle for his future, for his independence, for his happiness. 

“Like this one. This is definitely a battle scar.” 

Ronan’s remark interrupted his thoughts. Ronan had pushed himself upwards, bearing his weight on his elbows. His tone was light, and a lazy smile spread across his face. He reached around himself, pointing to the back of his right shoulder. 

“Huh?” Adam leaned forward, struggling to make out whatever Ronan was pointing to. After a moment he saw a tiny prick on his skin, already scabbed over. He brushed a finger over the rough patch of crust. “That’s barely a scratch… Where’d you get it?” 

“Was it that forgettable!?” he whispered with mock offense. “Or were you too overcome by lust to notice you pushed me against a fence yesterday?” 

The amusement that ignited Adam's face was answered with a grin. 

“Asshole.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm @aheadfullofbooks on tumblr and you're welcome to stop by and shoot me a prompt. Thank you for reading!


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